Firewood Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Firewood

In village, when a child
-we had our many farms
-in summers dad, friends
-took shovels and plowed
-we gathered mud blocks
-piled them in large, small
-then acted as masons
-made a tomb or shrine;
-entrance, perfect arch.

Trees were plenty
-branches their babies
-some had died already
-were around the trunks…

We, the kids, even teens
-collected lot of woods
-and some hay as tinder
-in the tomb made fire.

Then, went for potatoes
-pulled bushes off ground
-mother came with babies
-some remained in ground.

Used fingers as if rakes
-found and took; a success.

Returned to our mud-art
-inside it red as hell
-threw in potatoes
-then smashed work of art
-and walked on hellish hill
-left it there, went away…

On return we had what
-filled water in our mouths.

Yesterday, when filling car with gas,
-saw a sign that mentioned: "woodfire, "
-look-alike were pieces, unlike then…!